Friday 7 March 2014

All Circles Are Flat

The funny thing about time – well, not in the humour-implied sense of that adjective; if that ever existed, the drollery, if not the irony, drained out of it soon before long ago – is that it has no beginning. It cannot be used as a measure of itself. When did time start? Certainly not with a bang; nor will it end with an entropic whimper. It is a movement together with a rest.

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